Georgian London: Into the Streets

Yes, it’s finally here. Georgian London: Into the Streets is now on the streets (via your preferred book purchasing method).

Publication day blogging is a bit like arriving at an exam and being given a blank sheet of paper and the last few weeks have been emotional, in more ways than one. I had this post prepared last week, but on the big day, just didn’t want to put it up. If you read it, you’ll know why. Here goes!

It’s been an incredible journey, from the first post on the blog in 2009, to holding the finished hardback in my hand a little over a month ago. There have, of course, been bumps in the road and I need to thank everyone involved with the book for their patience, skill and enthusiasm. Thank you Eleo, Jillian and Ben and Lija, and Kirsty and Heather, and everyone at Viking and DGA who has worked on Georgian London.

A great big thank you to all the people who have given me so much help throughout the writing of the book. Reading chapters, listening to my worries, sending me videos of Henry Cavill’s Superman workouts. The latter were particularly helpful if only for seeing what a serious work ethic looks like, but thankfully there aren’t that many egg whites involved in writing.

Some of you do know, but most of you won’t, that through the book’s entire gestation period, and for much of my time studying the eighteenth century, Mr I Snr was suffering from terminal cancer. And next week I have to talk about the writing of the book, and it’s easier to write this and then not have to say it. I’ll just raise a glass. He decided, typically, to live far longer than the weeks he was given seven years ago. To the best of our knowledge, this was achieved mainly through pork crackling stolen from someone else’s plate, oysters, wine and willpower. When the proof of Georgian London finally arrived, he read it even as his sight failed, and he got to hold the finished edition although he could no longer really see it: ‘The dust jacket feels simply lovely.’ He died at home just over two weeks ago with the book by his bedside. And Bridie the border terrier on his bed. He leaves a big space in our lives and the world will be a less colourful place. It was he who made me a member of the wondrous London Library all those years ago, setting me on this course through a mutual love of life in another century. I also need to thank him for being half-responsible for my husband, the legendary Mr I, to whom Georgian London is dedicated.

The final and very real thank you goes to all the readers of this blog over the past four years. Your support, comments, messages, likes and even your stats (yes the regular in French Guiana, you especially) have meant everything; the book has come directly from the strength of your interest in eighteenth century London. Thank you. THANK YOU.

This blog will go on, of course, and soon in a new and really quite glamorous home. I’d hoped it would be built already. But now I know you know why. And I know you know too, that I’m nowhere near done with the eighteenth century yet.

p.s. If there isn’t a kindle sale in French Guiana, I’ll assume you’ve emigrated.

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